


Magnetic Resistance

by Cordelia_Sun



Category: Farscape
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia_Sun/pseuds/Cordelia_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds Aeryn in a compromising position and takes full advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnetic Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned by a prompt from a random word generator that gave me; Wine, Hands, Binding, Duct Tape and Socks. I do wonder about how random that generator actually was o.O
> 
> Further inspired by... other sources.

Aeryn Sun cannot move. She is stretched across the console in command; wrists, forearms and ankles clamped tight in the heavy magnetic cuffs they took from Coreeshi bounty hunters over three cycles ago. The details of how she got here are hazy, swimming in and out of focus at the edge of her mind; the image refuses to resolve into clarity no matter how hard she concentrates. Low lights envelop her in a soft amber glow and all she can hear is the distant thrum of the ship. Moya at rest.

She is alone. Probably.

Taking a deep shaky breath Aeryn takes comfort in the fact that she's more irritated than angry. Somehow, she's certain there's no danger here.

The last thing she remembers is playing tadek, badly, with Chiana as they emptied a bottle of fellip nectar followed by another of red Earth wine. Chiana had spent much of the evening regaling her with an array of anecdotes detailing her astonishing sexual adventures. Chiana, it seems, has explored most genders, many species and in varying quantities and combinations in her short, yet eventful, life.

Aeryn doesn’t shock easily; she was _,_ after all, raised a Peacekeeper and her culture treats sex as a free and fun recreational pass-time. Nothing to be ashamed of; experimentation encouraged. But some of Chiana’s tales make Aeryn realise that in _her_ short, yet eventful, life the furthest she's ventured out of her comfort zone is sex with a species almost indistinguishable from her own.

Well, there is love of course, but Aeryn's timid admission there had Chiana howling with derision. Love, the Nebari insisted, was not a fetish despite what the Peacekeepers might believe. She was right, of course, but for Aeryn it was still tinted with the thrill of the illicit even after all these cycles. The topic of Aeryn’s other unexplored fantasies had made her cheeks burn like Trellian fire water and Chiana’s leer had been almost unbearable.

The rest of the evening... is a blur.

Whatever happened, how ever her current predicament had come about, Aeryn knows it's all Chiana’s doing. It must be.

Satisfied with her theory Aeryn takes stock of her situation and tries to figure out how the frell she's going to get free.

Her arms are pinned out in front of her; pulled forward over the tilted console and stretching her to the limit of comfort. Her knees, while unbound, are locked in position by the restraints encircling her calves and ankles, which force her feet flat to the floor. She stands with her legs parted just wide enough that she is unable to press her legs together and she can't bend her knees. Her tightly braided pony tail falls down across her cheek.

" _At least I'm dressed_ ," she thinks as she tries twist round, testing the boundaries of movement and finding them extremely limited. She's wearing the same clothes she wore in Chaina's quarters; a black tank top and her usual leather pants. No boots though and the floor is warm through the soft fabric of her black socks. It could, she muses, be much worse.

It could be a lot better too.

A shadow falls over the console and Aeryn looks up with a start to see John gazing at her with a lopsided smile. He's dressed in his leathers and a tight black T-shirt; Winona nestles in the holster slung low on his thigh. Aeryn doesn't wonder why he's armed at this late hour; John needs to do things like that sometimes and she understands. His eyes betray none of the desperate panic that she's learned to fear; instead there's a dreamlike softness to the striking blue. Aeryn's thoughts, as she runs her eyes over him, dwell mainly on the fact that he looks good; really, really good.

“Officer Sun?” John says in a voice that is quiet, low and full of amusement.

“John,” she keeps her tone cool and as level as she can manage under the circumstances.

“Do I want to know how you ended up in this… extraordinary position?”

“Probably not,” she says, not wanting to admit that she doesn't know.

“I suppose you want me to help you.” He stands beside her, hip pressed against her arm, and Aeryn has to tip her head right back to look him in the eye.

“Yes,” she says and is appalled at tone of pleading that edges the word.

“Sure. Although this…” John smiles and runs the tip of his finger in a feather light trail along her arm, “this is all very temping.”

“This isn’t funny, John.” Aeryn snaps and John laughs in response; the sound echoing around the empty chamber.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He touches her shoulder and pulls at a lock of hair which has worked its way loose from her braid; winding it around his finger until it pulls tight and sharp, “just tell me you want out and your wish is my command.”

Aeryn pauses, teeth clenched around an irritated order for him to _get her the frell out of here_ , but the words don't come; she can't be sure they won't sound like a plea and that... that wont do. Instead, she closes her eyes, lowers her head and says nothing.

She's always been stubborn just like him; both of them desperate to maintain control in a world where neither truly has any. To say this hasn't always served them well would be an understatement of universal proportions, but that push and pull has always been part of the attraction too. Even now, in the relativity quiet domestic whirlwind of marriage and child rearing, they still challenge each other. Aeryn usually wins the advantage and John is usually happy to let her take it.

A hazy memory of a confession surfaces; she doesn't always want the advantage. The image of Chiana's gleeful grin flashes through Aeryn’s mind and another piece of the puzzle slots into place.

John's fingertip tracks along the line of her jaw, tucks under her chin and tilts her face up to look at him. He holds his thumb against her bottom lip, pressing it in a gesture more familiar on himself.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Their eyes lock and Aeryn’s cheeks flush with heat. His gaze turns serious; it's as if he's waiting for something and it takes a few microts for Aeryn to figure it out. She gives him a firm nod.

Yes.

A grin blooms across his face, he gives her a cheeky wink and steps away. Aeryn listens carefully to the echoing ring of his boots as he crosses the chamber and the swish and click of the door being locked.

And then silence.

Aeryn stands pinned to the console for too many long microts. Irritation bleeds into frustration then panic as she begins to think that maybe John has simply left her. That isn't what she wanted! She starts to struggle against her bonds.

The touch of a hand on the small of her back rends a short and unwilling cry.

“I guess we should look for the release control?” John says casually.

“I suppose?”

“Where do you think it is?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Aeryn feels the brush of his fingers tuck under the hem of her tank and slowly slide the fabric up her body. John's fingertips trace lines over the skin of her ribs until they work their way under the elastic of her soft bra. He pushes the bra up letting her breasts spill out into his hands and cups each one, kneading lightly. Pressing his fingers against her nipples he gently pulls and pinches them until Aeryn wants to scream.

Instead, she bites her lip; determined to remain composed.

“Well, it’s not there,” he whispers, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Evidently.”

John pulls away, hands brushing down her back, leaving her breasts exposed; her tender nipples pressed against the cool metallic console.

He runs his hand along her waist where the leather meets her skin before sliding under the waistband and curving around to the fastenings, which he pulls open with a practised tug. He slips inside and, hand pressed flat against her belly, reaches down between her legs.

“I don’t think it’s there!” Aeryn squeals.

“Gotta check,” he says with a chuckle as he slides the pads of his fingers over the thin material of her underwear, “to be absolutely certain.”

Any smart response she might have had is swallowed by a thick groan when his fingers tuck inside her shorts and delve into the profuse wetness exposing her feigned composure. John hums in approval.

But too quickly he pulls away and Aeryn can't help but growl in frustration.

John tugs at the waistband of her pants and in a slow slide he draws them over her hips taking the underwear with them; his short nails rake her smooth skin, sharp and shocking, until the clothing is pooled around her ankles leaving Aeryn totally exposed.

And then... nothing.

Aeryn is patient this time. She waits, and ignores the cool air over her bare skin and the ever increasing ache between her legs. If John wants to play games she can deal with that. The sudden tapping sound of fingers against metal doesn't startle her.

"Y'know," John says in a conversational tone as he drums against the cuff around her ankle, "I never thought of using these for... well, this. You gotta admit, they make a more effective binding than duct tape."

"Hmm," Aeryn agrees, not really listening as she wonders when this chatter is going to resolve into action. She loves John and has learnt to show patience in the face of his human nonsense, but he still has terrible, terrible timing. 

She doesn't have to wait long. He goes quiet and then comes the soft, wet sensation of John's tongue against her calf. Aeryn sucks in her bottom lip as he tickles the hollow behind her knee and flutters kisses over the backs of her thighs. His slow ascent is excruciating and Aeryn pants in anticipation, hissing encouragement under her breath, " _higher, higher, higher,_ " until...

“John!” she shrieks as his teeth sink into the tender skin of her inner thigh, “what the frell!”

John doesn’t respond. Instead his mouth clamps her flesh and he bites down hard, tongue flicking against her skin. It is unbearable. The pain isn't a problem, Aeryn is trained to deal with that, but the shocking sensation is wired directly into her groin and her sense of _want_ is overwhelming. When he releases his grip Aeryn aches for the touch of his lips and teeth against her skin one more. She jerks when his lips touch her again; a light kiss pressed to the stinging patch he left. Kissing it better.

The kiss is accompanied by the tantalising touch of his fingertips as they trace their way up her thigh until they brush up against her cunt. He pauses, gently exploring, and then slides two thick fingers inside her; curling them and applying a pressing, fluttering stroke that is incredible. Aeryn lets out a deep moan and allows her body to roll with the waves of pleasure that begin to flow through her. His rhythm is slow, deliberate and expertly focused; he knows just what she likes and as she leans into the sensations she can feel the swell of her climax approaching. Now if he could just press his thumb against—

He withdraws suddenly.

She let's out a yowl of anger and wriggles fruitlessly against her bonds until the heavy press of John’s hands on her backside stills her. He presses himself against her and Aeryn can feel his arousal through his leathers.

“ _Ok_ ,” she thinks, “ _that works too_.”

"I'm wondering what to do with you," he says in a slow, thoughtful tone.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Nah, I don't think so." he says with a breathy laugh and grinds himself against her behind, "I’m thinking… I’m thinking there needs to be some rules."

"Rules?"

"Yeah, rules. You know how they work, right?"

“There are rules.” Aeryn says quietly, “you follow the rules and everything will be all right."

"Exactly. So the rule is... " he says as he slips his fingers between her legs and applies light strokes agaist her labia, "you don't come until I say so."

"Frell you!"

"Maybe later," John says laughing, "are you saying you can't do it?"

"What?"

"Are you saying… that you don't have the discipline? That you can't control yourself around me?"

Aeryn presses her lips together in frustration. The gentle, careful stroke of his fingers between her legs is driving her slowly insane; but having issued his challenge he has her, and he knows it.

“Of course I can do it.”

“Baby, I never doubted you.”

His stills his fingers holds them in a light press over her aching clitoris. She can feel herself throb against them and he remains there, unmoving, for what feels like arns. His touch is torture.

John drops to his knees and rubs his hands against the top of her thighs. He pushes against the flesh encouraging her to tilt and arch her body as best she can to improve this access. Then he grips her hips and presses his face between her legs. He applies fluttering kisses before clamping his mouth over her mound. His lips are soft and warm and his tongue gently teases her into a swelling, rolling frenzy. Aeryn keeps absolutely still and bites down on her lip in an effort to keep herself under control. The tops of her thighs are slick as the evidence of her excitement drips down her legs. John pulls away to lap at her thighs and it is infuriating!

Aeryn is vaguely aware of a cry that wrenches from her throat; an aching moan against the swelling in the pit of her belly.

John stands and leans over her, pressing himself against her backside as he reaches forward and pushes a hand under her torso to grasp at her breast. The press of his warm skin and the rough edges of his open fly have her growling; he must want her as much as she wants him.

"You wan't something honey?"

"You know what I want."

"All you have to do is ask."

"I want to come," she cries out, following the admission with a string of untranslatable Sebacean epithets.

“Oh, you need to ask properly. In English.”

She is desperate to let go, but she can’t bring herself to beg. The words thicken around her tongue and are expelled as unintelligible syllables overflowing with pent up tension aching for release.

“Pu, pu, pu!”

“Yeah, Baby?” John asks sweetly as he presses butterfly kisses to her back.

“Please let me come.”

“No,” he says softly, "I don't think so."

And then he’s gone.

Lips gone. Hands gone. The soft warmth of his body… gone.

She hears a soft chuckle and the retreating ring of boots.

She is now alone in the darkness. Bound, exposed and quivering on the desperate on the edge of orgasm.

“John?” she calls her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and fear, “John!”

No response.

“You can't frelling leave me like this!”

The cold prickles her skin and this isn’t funny anymore.

“Seriously John, let me the frell out of here!”

She hears nothing but distant hum of the ship.

“John!”

_“John!”_

_“JOHN!”_

 

***

 

_“JOHN!”_

_“John!”_

“John!”

“Aeryn!” John kneels on the bed. He has Aeryn's arms grasped in tight fists as he holds her up and stares hard into her eyes. They're glazed and she is drenched in sweat, black hair plastered across her face in long tendrils, “Are you okay!”

She takes deep, gulping breathes before pulling out of his grip and rubs a hand across a pink flushed cheek.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been trying to wake you for ages.”

“It was a dream. Oh, god… it was a dream.”

“I thought Sebaceans didn’t dream.”

“Rarely,” she says, staring at her hands, “but when we do it can be very… vivid.”

“No kidding! You were _really_ hollering there.”

“I’m fine John,” she looks up and gives him that small smile she uses when she doesn't want him to be worried. It worries him.

“John?” she asks, “I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, Baby. I’ll do anything.”

She takes a deep breath and glances at up at him with a focused and determined expression.

“I need you to go fetch those Coreeshi handcuffs,” she says, “and meet me in command.”

"Command? Wha--"

His words are cut off as Aeryn gets up from the bed and she flings his T-shirt, leathers and holster at him.

"Come on," she says "let's finish this."

 


End file.
